by Fire
Kumul grunted. “With these bigger eastern stallions we can start breeding a proper war horse.”
“We will take your advice on this,” Korigan said, and Kumul bowed slightly for the favor she was showing him.
“What did you want with Prado’s head, lad?” Kumul asked Lynan.
“Did we find Rendle’s remains?”
“Yes, on the slope,” Korigan answered. “His head was already off his shoulders. It got trampled on, but it is recognizable.”
“Good. Put both heads in a basket. Fill the basket with salt and bring it to me.”
“Very well,” Korigan said, her voice flat, and gave the order.
Early the next morning the basket was presented to him. He opened it and placed in it the Key of the Union. Those around him gasped in surprise.
“What are you doing?” Ager asked.
Lynan called for Makon, who appeared moments later, bowing deeply. “Your Majesty?”
“In Gudon’s absence you performed well as leader of my Red Hands.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
“I have another important task for you. You must not fail in it. You may take a company of the Red Hands to help make sure you are not interfered with.”
“What is the task, my lord?”
Lynan showed Makon the contents of the basket. “You are to take this to Eynon, chief of the Horse clan.”
Makon could not hide his surprise. “To Eynon? Including the Key of the Union?”
“You are to tell Eynon that the heads are those of the mercenary captains Prado and Rendle, and are a present to him from Lynan Rosetheme, the White Wolf returned. And as a symbol of my trust in him, I also send the Key of the Union, so that he may find me to return it.”
No one said anything as Makon sealed the basket and tied it with sinew. “I will leave immediately.”
When Makon was gone, Lynan looked at the faces of Korigan and Kumul, expecting the greatest outrage from them, but both seemed calm.
“Neither of you have any objection?”
Kumul shook his head. “I do not doubt you know what you are doing,” the giant said.
“And I admire the strategy behind the move, your Majesty,” Korigan said. “You play this game of kingship very well indeed.”
“Ah,” Lynan said quietly, “that’s because I do not think it is a game.”
Chapter 24
Areava had wanted to keep the investiture ceremony brief, but Orkid argued she should use it as an opportunity for a celebration.
“Celebration!” Areava had exclaimed. “We are at war, Chancellor. Primate Giros Northam is dead. My husband is hundreds of leagues away risking life and limb—”
“Exactly, your Majesty. Which is why your people need to see you are confident about the future, that you are not obsessed with all the problems besetting the kingdom—”
“Of course I’m obsessed by them!” she snapped.
“—and indeed you are thrilled to have the opportunity to throw a party for the city.”
“A party?”
“A celebration, your Majesty. Use Father Powl’s investiture as an excuse to show the kingdom that you are in charge and that, despite the war, the kingdom goes on.”
Areava had agreed reluctantly, and was unsure if she had made the best decision. Until now. Looking down on the palace courtyard, she saw the beaming faces of her people as they enjoyed the early spring sunshine, the free food and drink, and the sign that even with a war the kingdom and its monarch were strong and confident enough to hold such a glorious and pomp-filled event. Father Powl, splendid in the official robes of Primate of the Church of the Righteous God, strolled among the citizens of Kendra, dispensing blessings and thanks to all the well-wishers.
Areava stayed aloof, but was pleased to see her people enjoying themselves so much. For a while Olio joined her on the south gallery. He placed a hand on her belly.
“Six months, the magickers tell me,” she said, and her face became sad.
“He m-m-might m-m-make it b-b-back in time,” Olio said.
Areava shook her head. “No, not now. Salokan has taken us all by surprise. Sendarus will not be back until after his daughter is born.”
“Daughter?”
“Yes. It is a girl.”
“You will call her Usharna?”
Areava’s face lost some of its sadness. “What else could I have called a daughter?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He grinned suddenly. “Olio would have b-b-been nice.”
Areava seemed shocked. “That would only have confused the poor darling. Having an uncle with the same name as herself. What would she think?”
“That her uncle was extremely lucky to have b-b-been named after her, of course.”
Areava laughed. “That’s true. If she is anything like me, that would not surprise you, I think.”
Olio kissed her cheek suddenly. “Everything about you surprises me, sister.” He held her hand briefly. “Are you coming down?”
“No. I prefer to watch from up here. But you should go down. They need a Rosetheme to mingle with them.”
“They would p-p-prefer you, I think.”
Areava shook her head. “You are quite wrong, brother.
They prefer me to be up here. That way everyone is in their place, and they know all is right with their world.“
Orkid waited until the new primate had finished receiving everyone’s congratulations, and then caught up with him as he walked back toward the west wing to change out of his ceremonial garb.
“The balance of power shifts once again,” Orkid said.
Powl looked at him without expression. “That is the most interesting greeting I’ve heard in some time.”
“Now that Primate Northam has gone—God care for his soul—”
“God care for his soul,” Powl recited.
“—I feel the council has moved somewhat away from the queen in sympathy and toward the Twenty Houses and some commercial interests in the city.”
“Not for my part, Chancellor.”
“I have always believed you were on the queen’s side. That is why I approached you earlier to establish a special liaison between us.”
“For which I was grateful. Regrettably, events have meant we were never able to take advantage of that.”
“Those events may still occur, but are you still interested in maintaining a special relationship with my office?”
“Unreservedly, Chancellor. Do you feel it will be important in the near future?”
“It is hard to tell, your Grace.” Orkid said the title with something like deference, which did not go unnoticed by Powl. “The state of war distorts the normal picture. For the moment we are all on the same side, but who knows what will happen after the war is over?”
“Surely that depends on whether or not we win?”
“Oh, we will win,” Orkid assured him. “Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, but inevitably, inexorably, Haxus will pay for its sins.”
Powl stopped and looked at the Chancellor. “‘Sins,’ Chancellor? That is an interesting word to choose. Do you believe whether or not something is a sin is determined by the origin of its perpetrator? Salokan sins because he is from Haxus and is invading Grenda Lear, for example?”
“Surely what is moral in one country—if it is truly moral—must equally be moral in another country?” the chancellor countered.
“That was my point,” Powl said, resuming his walk. “I would not like to think we had been reduced to the level where we believed that sin was somebody doing something we didn’t like, irrespective of intention or method.”
“Are you arguing for Salokan’s invasion?” Orkid asked, not even trying to hide the surprise in his voice.
“By no means. I am merely offering, say, guidance, on your earlier choice of words. Let’s leave ‘sin’ out of it for the moment. You believe we will win the war?”
“Yes, and moreover I believe that once that happens we will see the queen’s council sp
lit into two factions, one that supports her Majesty and one that supports the Twenty Houses and certain moneyed interests who would benefit from a weakened monarchy, especially if Haxus is taken and there are new lands and new opportunities to exploit.”
“It is the tradition of my house to support the monarch in all she—or indeed, he—does.”
“A tradition you intend to continue.”
“Without doubt.”
“I am glad to hear it, for you see there is a way to ensure the balance on the council is restored.”
“How is that?”
“With Northam gone, you inherit his seat.”
“Ah, I see,” Powl said. “Which means my seat becomes vacant, to be filled by the queen’s new confessor.”
“Exactly,” Orkid said. “And you choose the queen’s confessor.”
Powl stopped. “Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?” He looked strangely at Orkid. “Lucky for our side.”
Olio and Edaytor entered the hospice through the back door. The priest welcomed them and led them into the kitchen, bowing and scraping the whole way.
“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” Olio asked.
The priest gave a sickly smile. “Your Highness sees my deficiencies with an eagle eye.”
“You m-m-misunderstand m-m-me, Father. I m-m-merely m-m-meant that we are in the habit of treating these visits of m-m-mine with some informality. Indeed, I would p-p-prefer it if you could avoid calling me by my title.”
“Without your title, your Highness?” the priest said uncertainly.
Olio patted him on the shoulder. “It will take some p-p-practice, I can see.”
“I was given a message today that you had a dying child for the prince,” Edaytor said with some impatience. He did not like the fact that the regular priest had been changed suddenly by the new primate. He and Olio really did have to meet with Powl and sort some things out.
“A child, Prelate?” The priest seemed confused. “No. I have a man in his sixties. He has a bad heart...”
“We are wasting our time here, your Highness,” Edaytor said abruptly, then said to the priest, “his Highness only deals with those who are dying before their time, from illness or accident.”
The priest seemed horrified. “But the patient is a good man with many small children—”
“Nevertheless,” Edaytor interrupted, “it was not part of the original agreement...” He let the sentence die. He had already said too much to someone who had not been involved in the original establishment.
“P-p-perhaps this one time, Edaytor?” Olio said. He hated the thought of letting a man die who had small children.
“Your Highness, you cannot cure every ill afflicting Kendra,” Edaytor said somewhat impatiently. “We have discussed this before. If you truly wish to help your people, you have to use your power sparingly and only where it will do the most good. We must go, and we must go now.”
The priest was confused, and became even more confused when the prince and the prelate left without seeing his dying patient. When they were gone, he hurried back to the kitchen and wrote down everything that had been said between the three of them. He took some time over it, trying to remember every single word and nuance. In this regard, Primate Powl’s instructions had been explicit.
It was late at night and Dejanus was about to leave his office to go to his own rooms when one of the guards knocked and opened the door, letting in a small, rat-faced man who seemed uncomfortable in the presence of so many people with so many weapons.
“He says he has some information for you,” the guard said, his voice doubtful.
Dejanus nodded and the guard left. “Hrelth.” He said the name like a swear word, and came to stand over the man. “How pleasant to see you again.”
Hrelth bowed. “Your Magnificence, you asked me to come if I had any news about Prin—”
Dejanus’s hand shot up to cover Hrelth’s mouth. “And I also asked you to never come to me in the palace, remember?” he hissed. “Only talk to me at the tavern!”
Hrelth shook his head; Dejanus resisted the temptation to twist it off his shoulders. He let the man go and went to the door. He opened it quickly, and did not like the way the guard was so determinedly at attention. “Find some wine,” Dejanus snapped. “Couldn’t you see my guest was thirsty?”
“Sir!” the guard shouted and ran off on his errand.
Dejanus closed the door behind him and turned back to Hrelth. “All right, quickly. What news of the prince?”
“He and Edaytor Fanhow went to the hospice you asked me to watch. They went in the back door, stayed for only a few minutes, and then left again. The prelate escorted Prince Olio all the way back to the palace and then left for his own home.”
“And they were at the hospice for only few minutes? Are you sure?”
Hrelth nodded vigorously. “And there’s something else.”
“Something else?”
“I was heading back when I saw the priest from the hospice running to the palace as well. This was about ten minutes after the prince had returned.”
“He probably lives in the west wing,” Dejanus said reasonably.
Hrelth shrugged. “Maybe. That is certainly where he went, but less than ten minutes later he was rushing back to the hospice again.”
“Really?” Dejanus mused.
Hrelth nodded again. “I’m sorry for coming to the palace, your Constableness, but I thought you would want to know...”
“Yes, yes. You were right.”
The door opened and the guard came in with a flagon of wine and two mugs. Dejanus looked askance at the mugs— he was used to better now that he was constable—but at least they were clean. The guard left to take up his post again.
“So, you think the harbor patrols are doing a good job?” Dejanus asked.
Hrelth looked quizzically at him for a moment, then understanding dawned in his eyes. Dejanus wanted to kill him again.
“Yes, that’s right. Very good. Good patrollers on the harbor.”
Dejanus poured him a mug of wine and handed it over. Hrelth drank most of it in one gulp, then whispered, “Err, we have not yet discussed my retainer, sir.”
“You just drank a mug of vintage Storian wine. How much do you think that’s worth?”
“It was very nice, sir,” Hrelth admitted, “but it doesn’t feed my children.”
“You don’t have any children.”
Hrelth thought about that for a moment. “Err, that’s true.”
Dejanus opened his coin pouch and threw the rat two pennies. “Enough to feed you for a week, at least, or keep you drunk for two days.”
Hrelth did a little bow and scampered off.
Dejanus poured himself a wine and sat behind his desk again.
So two of us at least are collecting information about Prince Olio, he thought. And what is the new primate’s interest in all of this?
Dejanus had no answer to that question, but it did not worry him overly. The primate was a new broom and probably just wanted to make sure of things before sweeping everything clean. Still, it would not hurt to keep an eye on Powl. Maybe, just maybe, he could prove useful as an ally, and then there would be two of them on the council secretly opposed to Chancellor Orkid Gravespear. Now that was worth thinking about.
Chapter 25
If Salokan had known beforehand that Daavis was going to be such a tough nut to crack, he might have reconsidered his strategy. His generals continually assured him that the city’s fall was imminent, but as far as he could see the only thing that was imminent was another failed and bloody assault. He was tired of seeing long streams of Haxan wounded making their way to the hospital corner of the camp while the walls of Daavis stood there scorched and battered but still standing. He had no idea what casualties Charion’s forces were suffering, but he was damn sure it was considerably less than those she was inflicting on him. “When I take the city,” Salokan said aloud, “I am going to hang Queen Charion from the main gate. I
will hang her by her feet. Alive. And naked.”
Some nearby officers chuckled appreciatively, secretly relieved he was not yet talking about hanging them upside down and naked from the walls of Daavis. If the city did not fall soon, they knew they could expect little in the way of kindness from their king. The problem was no one had expected Charion to be so effective in rallying the defense of her capital.
Salokan studied his officers, accurately reading their minds. I need an advantage, he thought. I need something Charion does not have. He sighed heavily. And, of course, that something was Lynan Rosetheme. Then he could parade the exiled prince up and down the country raising the province against its own diminutive queen now bottled up in Daavis. Symbols were important, he knew, just as he knew his army’s continued lack of success against the city was also a symbol: a symbol of his failing invasion of Grenda Lear.
It was not supposed to turn out like this, he told himself. By now he was supposed to be inside Daavis preparing for the inevitable counterattack, with Lynan in one pocket and Charion in the other.
There was a cry from behind him, and he looked around to see some soldiers pointing to a flock of pigeons coming from the west and heading northeast.
“That’s strange, isn’t it?” he asked allowed but of no one in particular. “There are no pigeons on the Oceans of Grass, are there?”
“No, your Majesty,” said an aide, then cleared his throat. “They could be ours.”
Salokan looked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they could be the pigeons we sent with Thewor for Rendle’s expedition.”
“They couldn’t all be carrying a message, could they?” someone asked.
“I think they are all bearing the same message,” Salokan said bleakly.
Farben shook his head as if to clear his ears. “I’m sorry, your Highness, but I’m not sure I understood you correctly.”
“You understood me, Farben. Don’t lie.”
“But we don’t have enough soldiers.”
